


Inquisitor, Executor

by Halmaithor



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Discussions of death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Parenthood, Questionable Schooling Practices, Shadowhunter Culture, Wills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halmaithor/pseuds/Halmaithor
Summary: ‘You knew that thirteen is when they start focusing the kids more on combat, on field operations,’ Alec points out.‘Meaning I thought he’d be learning how to defend himself.’ Magnus’ mouth twists. ‘Not that they’d start mentally preparing him fordeath.'Rafael comes home from school with an unpleasant assignment and Magnus is furious. Even worse, Alexanderisn't.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Magnus Bane & Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 16
Kudos: 169





	1. Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends. So, this is pretty angsty, so I wanted to give you a heads up:   
> 1) This fic is about an argument. Chapter 2 will contain a resolution, but it's not all sunshine and roses because...   
> 2) The argument is about how Nephilim children are raised to become Shadowhunters at eighteen, ready to go out into the field and kill demons. So even though Magnus and Alec resolve their argument, the initial reason for it isn't just going away. 
> 
> Please let me know if you think anything else needs tagging beyond what I already have. I hope you enjoy the angst. <3

‘Hey,’ Alec says, stepping into the apothecary, and his smile is so casual it only serves to infuriate Magnus further. ‘Wondered where you were. The boys said you’d probably be in here – busy day, I’m guessing?’

‘Something like that,’ Magnus grits out quietly, before waving a hand, resisting the urge to have his magic slam the door and instead closing it gently, before throwing up a soundproof ward.   
Alec looks at him in confused concern, but Magnus has officially run out of patience and doesn’t let him voice whatever obvious question is coming. ‘Did you know about this?’ he demands – as mildly as he can, given how intently he’s _seething_ inside – and he brandishes the manila folder Rafe had solemnly presented to him after school.

Alec opens it up, and he frowns, but Magnus knows it’s for the wrong reason. ‘Of course I did,’ he says slowly. ‘And so did you; I told you about when I wrote mine. You _saw_ Max’s-‘   
‘Only because _Robert_ mentioned it.’ Magnus scoffs. ‘I assumed it was another… _dynastic_ quirk of his. Not that the Academy itself would ask _thirteen-year-olds_ to write a _will.’_ He’s aware that he’s shaking a little. He’s still reeling from realizing what the document was, from having to tone down his more visceral reaction in front of the boys.

Alec draws himself up a little, looking a little wary now, at least. ‘You knew that thirteen is when they start focusing the kids more on combat, on field operations,’ he points out.   
‘Meaning I thought he’d be learning how to defend himself.’ Magnus’ mouth twists. ‘Not that they’d start mentally preparing him for _death.’_  
‘It’s _both,’_ Alec says, a thread of annoyance finally entering his tone, his bearing as he places that awful folder back down on Magnus’ desk – easily, like he’s submitting a financial report to the Consul, not holding his eldest son’s scrawled last wishes, the fact that he’s left his video games to his little brother and the microscope leftover from his science phase to his Aunt Izzy. ‘The Clave decided a long while back that thirteen is old enough to –‘  
‘Don’t give me what _the Clave_ says, _Inquisitor,’_ Magnus snaps. ‘Don’t give me _it’s the way things are_ when _you’re_ one of the rule-makers who could change it-‘

‘And do what?’ Alec asks – his voice louder now, his arms folded one moment, gesticulating the next in his growing agitation. ‘Lie to them? Tell them they’re all gonna be okay, and then – then send them out onto the streets with no warning once they’re eighteen?’   
‘Maybe if you _didn’t_ send them out the second they’re eighteen,’ Magnus spits. ‘What kind of people let _children_ spend their time getting used to death?’   
Alec’s nostrils flare. _‘My_ people,’ he says darkly. ‘And Rafael’s, whether you like it or not.’

Magnus shakes his head. ‘It’s barbaric,’ he declares. ‘It’s _disgraceful-‘  
_ ‘It’s our _job!’_ Alec exclaims. ‘Shadowhunters _never_ live peaceful lives, and if you have such a problem with that, then maybe you shouldn’t have married one!’   
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have!’ Magnus shouts.

There’s silence for a moment, strange and echoing where their voices were so loud.   
And then Alec’s mouth draws into a thin line, and he turns on his heel.

Magnus follows him out of the apothecary. ‘Where are you going?’ he asks, not caring in the _least_ if it comes out petulant.   
‘Out,’ Alec answers shortly, throwing on his jacket before grabbing his bow off the rack.   
Magnus snorts. ‘Descriptive as ever,’ he mutters, the uneasiness in his gut not quite enough to bank his anger just yet.   
Alec doesn’t rise to that particular piece of bait, though. ‘Tell the boys I had to head back to the office for a while,’ he says quietly, glancing back at Magnus, just for a moment. ‘I’ll be back sometime before dawn.’

And then he’s gone.

And it’s completely unfair, because Magnus can’t even bring himself to feel glad.


	2. Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter discusses the grey morality of the Clave - how Shadowhunters are a force for good in that they protect the world, but that there's also a lot of corruption and bigotry that should not be ignored or condoned. I believe I've walked the line well in this discussion, but do please let me know if you think something needs adjusting. <3

Sometimes, after how many people have lied to him, Magnus is surprised at the reminder that he married a man of his word.

Case in point: it’s still fifty-seven minutes before dawn when Alexander reappears at the back door, crossing the balcony and leaning against the railing, only a couple of feet from where Magnus is doing the very same himself. ‘Hey.’   
Magnus sighs, giving in to the light wave of magic that wants to ghost over his husband and check for injuries as usual – and thankfully, finding none. ‘Hey.’   
‘Sorry for running out like that,’ Alec says quietly.   
Magnus shakes his head. ‘Don’t apologize for that. I think we both needed a little time to think.’   
‘Yeah.’

They’re quiet, for a moment.   
But Magnus’ anger has long faded into something faintly bitter and wistful and sad, so he turns and breaks the silence. ‘I shouldn’t have said what I did,’ he murmurs, his regret easing for being voiced. ‘I hope you know that I wouldn’t change our life together for anything.’

Alexander glances at him, a small uptick to his mouth that eases something in Magnus’ chest. _I know._ ‘I started that part of it,’ he points out. ‘I’m sorry I got so defensive. It’s not like your issues with Shadowhunter culture are unfounded – it’s violent, and sometimes corrupt, and we still get a lot wrong. I know that.’ His gaze flicks back over to the right, where the political district stands tall and sprawled and shining, even in the low streetlights. ‘Sometimes it feels… strange. That I can know all of that, and still be proud of what we do, on the whole.’

Magnus steps closer, just enough that their bracing hands brush gently together on the stone railing. ‘It’s not strange,’ he says. ‘You were right – your people, as far as we know, were quite literally put on this earth to protect others. That’s a noble cause, and it’s the foundation that makes the Clave _worth_ improving instead of tearing down. It makes sense you’d be proud of it.’ He lays his hand over Alexander’s, then, squeezing gently in a request to recapture his gaze. ‘I know I am,’ he says softly, mirroring Alexander’s small smile. ‘And I know I’ll be proud of Rafe, too.’ He lets out a quiet, resigned laugh, releasing Alec’s hand and looking down at the streets below. ‘It’s just that it _also_ scares me half to death. That both of you are destined to actually go _looking_ for the worst, most dangerous kinds of trouble.’

‘I know.’ Beside him, there’s a sigh, too weary-sounding for a man not even middle-aged. ‘I get it. I felt the same the first time Max went on mission. And I know that it doesn’t go away, either,’ he adds. ‘The other day, I was being read a casualty report, and one of the names was ‘Isabelle Lionweld’, if you can believe it.’ He gives a mirthless huff of laughter. ‘I nearly had a heart attack. Or when I train, sometimes? I get a stitch – here.’ Magnus looks over and sees his palm come to rest just below his left ribs. ‘And for a split-second, I think…’

He trails off, his hand dropping from his side. Magnus swallows, an odd twist of fear behind his solar plexus as he remembers that day. The way Alec had screamed, how helpless he himself had felt. ‘I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t care,’ he says quietly.

Alec looks back up at him with a contrite expression. ‘You didn’t, not really,’ he insists. ‘I was the one who went all… _professional detachment_ on you. I shouldn’t have.’   
Magnus shrugs. ‘I know why you have to.’   
‘Yeah,’ Alec says quietly – but there’s a firmness there, too. ‘When I’m at work. Not when I’m talking to you about our son. I’m sorry.’  
Magnus just nods in acceptance, offering a small smile.

They look out over the city for a while, shoulder-to-shoulder now, and Magnus feels warmer for it.   
‘Sometimes I wish it wasn’t this way.’ Alexander’s voice is quiet, barely there, and confessional. ‘I wish that Shadowhunting was something that Rafe could – _choose,_ instead of being expected to do it.’ He lets out a deep breath. ‘But we’re _needed,’_ he says. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s half the reason we’ve gotten away with so many of the bad things for so long – because even when we’re corrupt, we’re _necessary._ I mean, I’m sure you’ve seen what happens to a city when an Institute goes down.’

Magnus hums in quiet agreement. He has, and it’s not pretty by any means. There are more things in the shadows than it’s psychologically wise to consider, and who would stop them, if not the Nephilim? Warlocks are too thin on the ground in general, let alone when it comes to those powerful enough to take down more than a stray, solitary demon. Magnus has his suspicions that it’s the same story for the Seelie, too; though with the last two queens they’ve had advocating for even stronger isolation from this plane than they’ve had in the past, it’s hard to tell.   
Vampires and werewolves are more numerous, of course – but killing demons is a _lot_ harder for them than it is for Shadowhunters, their advantages better suited to facing earthly threats. And that’s providing that they could get the demons to stick around instead of run, with no lure of angel blood to draw them in.   
Like it or not, between that factor and the ability to wield adamas, Nephilim are perfect for the job. They’re both bait and deadly trap in one humanly-flawed package.

Magnus has long since learned that loving a Shadowhunter – in any capacity – comes with accepting that.

So, ‘I know,’ he says to Alexander, and he leans closer, folding an arm around his husband’s waist and accepting the one around his shoulders. ‘And no matter what one’s path in life will be, the responsible thing for their guardians to do is prepare them for the reality of the world as best they can.’   
He swallows hard. ‘I just… wish that we could shield him for a _little_ longer,’ he whispers.

The arm around his shoulders tightens comfortingly. ‘I know.’ Alexander’s voice is low and rough, and as close to breaking as Magnus feels right now. ‘I know. I do too.’

They’re still there when the sun comes up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Do please let me know what you thought. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: silver-latin-and-salt


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